The Loop
by Lisbet Adair
Summary: Betrayed and left for dead, Ghost finds himself rescued by an unlikely pair and discovers there's a lot more to his world that he's been led to believe.
1. Chapter 1

**The Loop: Chapter One**

Most of it was a blur, clouded by fear and pain, but there was a certain moment during his own death that Ghost would always remember with absolute clarity: the realisation of the treachery. For months afterwards he would close his eyes and see Shepherd's steel grey stare in the darkness, devoid of emotion, as he pulled the trigger. After that, everything was in slow motion: Roach crumpled around the impact of the bullet and fell backwards, slamming into the dusty ground. For a second, Ghost didn't believe it; it was too much to take in, and then Shepherd turned to him. Their gazes locked and the moment seemed to stretch on forever. Ghost felt like he was moving through treacle as he tried, in vain, to bring the ACR up to fire. He replayed it every night; it haunted his dreams in a recurring loop and he was _never_ fast enough. The bullet slammed into his chest, knocking him off his feet, and then it all went black.

He came round minutes later as the faceless soldiers of Shadow Company manhandled him towards Roach. The pain in his chest was agonising and when he was grabbed under the arms he tried to scream. It felt like they were tearing his shoulder off. It hurt to breathe. Hurt too much. He looked down and saw the blood blossoming on his clothes. _Pressure. Put pressure on it. _He tried to move his hand but it didn't seem to be listening to his brain. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the pain and fell into darkness.

This time, it was the smell that woke him. It was a smell he knew, and for a few seconds he mentally fumbled for the reason why it was important. Then it hit him: it was petrol. The horrific realisation of its significance briefly blocked out everything else: they were going to burn him alive.

He could still see Shepherd, standing over them and regarding them as if they were the most disgusting thing he'd ever seen. _Kill. Him._ He focussed on the pistol, still in its holster on his leg, but he couldn't move past the agonising pain. The world blurred again for a moment and he knew everything was lost. He was going to die here. He could hear a noise, a distant alarm as he felt the start of the heat rising.

"Oh for crying out loud!"

"It's not my fault! I wanted to see the Solstice!"

Ghost floated on the edge of consciousness, the fumes making his head swim. He could hear voices.

"Is Stonehenge famous for being in the middle of a war zone, darling?"

"Might be. Might be the off-season."

They faded and slowed, the sounds deformed by the pain.

"Oh for goodness sake! What are they shooting at us for?"

"They're Americans! Look, you need to help me!"

"You shot him!"

"He was trying to shoot me! Just shut up for a second and help me!"

They faded again, muffling as his vision clouded. He could see outlines of shapes moving, distorted by the haze of heat and then there was nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Loop: Chapter Two**

He was awoken by a wrenching twist in his stomach. He had been drifting in and out of consciousness for a few minutes, but the sudden flood of nausea forced him awake like a slap in the face. He retched, twisting his body so that he didn't choke. It hurt. The stabbing pain in his gut brought tears to his eyes. He tried to sit up but another spasm coursed through him and he retched again.

"It's okay!" He could hear a woman's voice at his ear and cool porcelain was pressed to his face. He had time to see the white edge of the bowl curving in front of his eyes before he was sick. He closed his eyes as he choked and spluttered, trying not to think about the awful metallic taste in his mouth. He groaned as the last paroxysms of pain twisted in his gut and he spat out the last dregs.

"It's alright." He could feel a hand stroking his face and the cold sensation of metal on his skin underneath him. He concentrated on his breathing, and waited for the nausea to settle. When he opened his eyes, he got the shock of his life.

In the bowl in front of him was a wobbly silver ball, rolling around of its own accord. He stared at it, aghast, too stunned and confused to do anything. It shuddered, and dissolved into a shimmering metallic pool before his eyes.

"Drink this." The female voice ordered. He looked up to see an olive-skinned woman with deep green eyes and wild blonde hair crouching next to him. She proffered a flask.

"What the hell is that?" he said, his voice coming out as a strangled whisper. "Wha-"

"Drink it and spit it out into the bowl. Otherwise you'll waste them." She said sternly. She pushed the flash and the bowl towards him.

Terrified, Ghost rolled away from her, and stumbled to his feet, crashing into a metal table that made him lose his balance. His body didn't feel like it was properly under his own control and everything hurt. He ended up on his knees, panting. The woman forced the flask between his lips and poured in the contents.

"Now spit" she commanded. When he didn't obey fast enough, she slapped him on the back of the head, and he coughed the fluid into the bowl. Satisfied, she stood up, taking the bowl with her. Ghost coughed again, wiping his mouth with his hand. His head was spinning. _What the hell is going on?_ He was cold; the metal of the floor was hard on his knees. _Where are my clothes?_

"These nanites are bloody hard to come by these days. Have to save as much of them as we can. Fortunately, they tend to stick together." She poured the bowl into a tall bottle and set it to one side.

Ghost made the mistake of looking up and shuddered. Above him the room's ceiling curved, covered in a network of flashing wires and cables feeding into a massive central pillar. He shook his head to clear his vision. It looked like a computer of sorts, alien and frightening. _Where the hell am I?_ He thought. He remembered the house, and then he'd been running_. The grass pulling at his feet, the whine of bullets in the air and Roach was tumbling..._ He couldn't remember. His vision swum and he felt sick again. _He'd grabbed Roach and kept running towards the evac point and then... _He shook his head again, trying to remember. He knew it was important, but it was just beyond his reach. He struggled to his feet and grabbed the first thing he could as a weapon: an odd looking tool that was lying on the ground beside him.

"You stay back!" he said, waving it at the woman. His vision was blurring with the effort of standing. His muscles ached with the effort. He stumbled and righted himself.

"I know this is a bit of a shock for you." She said, coming towards him.

"You stay there!" he hefted the object in what he hoped was a threatening manner. The room was spinning around him. He felt sick again.

"Oh, brilliant!" A man appeared at the top of the stairs behind the woman. "You found the temporal wrench! I've been looking for that everywhere!"

"Darling!" said the woman, without looking round "I think he's a little confused for that at the moment."

"Oh yes. I imagine he would be: one minute a warzone, next minute TARDIS. Terribly complicated if you aren't expecting it."

"I don't know what you're talking about, but you shut up!" yelled Ghost. He blinked, and shook his head, trying to get his vision back to normal.

"Charming." Said the man. He was dressed in a tweed jacket with patches on the elbows. He looked like mad professor, but too young.

_Get out of here!_ Thought Ghost. He realised it was risky, but it might be his only chance. Looking around, he could see a door at the edge of his vision. He measured the distance in his head. The woman was unarmed. If he was quick, he thought he could make it.

"Don't-" she started to say as he leapt away, towards the doorway.

He stumbled his way to the door, slamming into the wall so hard the breath knocked of him. There were black spots appearing in front of his eyes and he knew he had to get out soon before he completely collapsed. He could hear shouting close behind him as he pulled the door open, ready to pelt into the next room as quickly as possible, but then he was falling and he knew all hope was lost as he pitched into the black.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Loop: Chapter Three**

"I appreciate it's quite a lot to take in." said River.

Ghost was sitting on a chair, huddled under a large pink blanket with a motif of yellow ducklings around the edge. He didn't think he'd ever be warm again. The memory of the terrible blackness and the bone gnawing cold kept rearing up. He shuddered. _I just fainted. I just didn't feel well._ He'd woken up on the floor again, this time wrapped up in bedclothes. He had been too weak to move, and he had to lie there, letting her hold his hand and try to explain what had happened.

She pushed a large mug of hot tea across the table towards him and he grabbed it, hungrily. His hands were still shaking.

"It doesn't feel real." said Ghost. "Roach is dead. Everyone's dead. I'm meant to be dead." He tried to focus on this fact. _Roach couldn't be dead. He was Roach. He was called Roach because he just didn't die..._

"I'm sorry." said River. "There was nothing we could do. He was gone."

Ghost didn't hear her. "Shepherd killed him." He felt like he was watching it happen, over and over again, though a pane of glass, like it was a film. "Shepherd wanted to kill me. He..." He trailed off, unable to find the right words. He reached under the blanket to touch his chest, where he'd felt the bullet tear through his body, but there was nothing.

"The nanites are very good. They can fix you up without a trace... as long as they get it right."

"But he shot me. I felt it happen!" The skin where he knew the bullet had hit him felt strange, slightly number than the rest of his chest, but there was no mark, nothing to indicate anything had ever happened.

"Yes." River spoke very slowly and carefully, like she was speaking to a particularly slow child. "It did happen, but we fixed you." She pushed a tall bottle across the table and Ghost recognised the silver fluid he'd vomited up. "Microscopic machines." She said "You put them in, they sort the problem."

"I've never seen them before." He said, confused.

"That's because they won't be invented until a hundred years after you were born." She replied, with a charming smile.

"It's an awful lot to try to explain at once! Probably best not to, really." Ghost turned to look to see the man slide out from under the central pillar of the room. He stood up, dusted himself off and squared his bow tie. Ghost watched him as he started to fiddle with the buttons and knobs on the panel. "Suffice to say, you're technically dead, except you're obviously not, and you're currently sitting in a time travelling spaceship. Simple!" He waved the strange tool Ghost had picked up earlier. "I'm the Doctor, this is the TARDIS. You've met River."

River shot him a warning look.

"You're a doctor?"

"No. I'm _the_ Doctor. She's a professor though. Archeology. Clever. Beautiful"

Ghost looked at River. She raised an eyebrow.

"Which begs the question," said the Doctor "Who are you?"

"Simon." Said Ghost.

"Yes! Lieutenant Simon Riley, codenamed Ghost." The Doctor turned round and started tapping on a keyboard attached to the pillar in the centre of the room. Ghost watched lights flash along the pillar, course over the wires and a strange glow started to build around it. He tensed, ready to spring away in case it exploded.

"It's alright," said River. "It does that."

There was sharp crack and an explosion of sparks flew out of one of the panels.

"And sometimes that." She smiled.

The Doctor leant down and stared at an image that had appeared in the space in front of him, He waved away the purplish smoke that the sparks had left behind. "Hmm. Blah, blah. Parachute Regiment. SAS. Oh! Love their hats! Had beret thing about a hundred years ago, doesn't really go with this face. Anyway! Seconded to Anglo-American joint task force, murdered by General Dwight Shepherd on the 17th of June 2016. About right? Well. Apart from the murder thing, obviously. Oh, wait. Body was never recovered." He grinned manically at Ghost.

The words washed over him, and he sat, stunned when the Doctor had finished speaking. _He'd been murdered._

"I've been murdered." He said, automatically.

"Sort of." Said the Doctor. "Obviously, not actually murdered, because you're still here. Alive."

"Why does it say I'm dead then?"

"Certainly seems to be a good answer, in the face of the evidence."

"But I'm not dead."

"Correct."

Ghost considered this impeccably logical and sensible statement which still seemed to make no sense at all. He decided not to think about for the time being, because it hurt his head. He thought about something that had been bothering him since he woke up. "Where am I?" he asked.

"This the TARDIS!" said the Doctor, turning a circle round and waving his arms at everything in the room.

"It will help if you think of it as a sort of space ship." said River. "It will also help if you think that space ships are real. I'd also recommend that you readjust your worldview to include the fact that time travel is possible and that we can travel in both space and time, which, if you can manage this too, are sort of the same thing."

"This is a joke, right?" said Ghost. He started to laugh, nervously "It's a big joke. It was Roach right? Roach loves this sort of thing! Where did he get you two from?" He smiled, looking expectantly at River. "He must have spiked my drink or something!"

She shook her head. "I'm sorry."

"Time travelling spaceship?" He laughed, an unhinged giggle. "That was the real kicker!"

River frowned. "It's true. He's dead."

"Until you said-"

"It's not a joke! This is real." She folded her arms "If you don't believe me, why don't you really see what's outside that door."

"Fine!" said Ghost. He pulled the blanket around him, stood up and walked over the door again. "You really had me going! Can't believe I fell for it!" he said, shaking his head at them as he grabbed the handle and pulled it open.

Then he turned, and the infinity of the universe hit him the face.


	4. Chapter 4

**The Loop: Chapter Four**

Ghost was standing by the edge of the swimming pool, examining his skin, when the Doctor reappeared behind him.

"I had this cut, here, and here." He pointed to a blank space on his leg and then another on his arm. "I had all these pits and nicks everywhere. What the hell happened?"

"I think the nanites got a bit carried away." replied the Doctor. "They default to repair everything and we were in a bit of a rush, so we just let them get on with it." He clapped his hands together and rubbed them enthusiastically, his expression bright and cheerful.

Ghost pulled at the skin of his face, peering at his reflection in the mirror. "I look like I'm ten years younger."

"I think they sort of set themselves to about twentyish for humans."

"For humans?"

"For humans, i.e not me." The Doctor grinned at him, sheepishly.

Ghost thought about asking the obvious question, and then decided against it. Nothing good had come from any of the replies to his enquiries yet. There was no way to keep track of how long he'd been here, but he'd felt like he'd wandered the place for hours, searching for something that he couldn't find: answers, reasons, other people. He had nothing to focus on; nothing to cling to and it frightened him.

He was supposed to be dead, but he wasn't. River had tried to explain things, but after seeing _outside_, he couldn't take anything in. He came to his senses in the middle of her lecture, after her words had been washing over him for about ten minutes, unheard, and he remembered: Roach was dead, Toad was dead, Archer was dead. Everyone he cared about was dead. He felt like his insides had been sucked out, leaving a hollow, empty shell.

He'd got up, and walked out of the control room, just pushing past River and walking until he was far away. He could feel the sadness welling up inside as he walked, twisting and turning through a maze of corridors, and then the grief hit a critical point, scorching through him like a wildfire and exploding out of his chest in a deep, aching cry. He'd slumped against the wall and then dropped to his knees, unable to support his own weight any longer and wept into his hands.

When it had petered out, he didn't know how much later, he'd tried to find the control room again, but had ended up at the swimming pool. He'd thought: _to hell with it! _It had been a pleasant escape to throw off the blanket and dive into the cool waters, washing away the salt and the lingering smell of petrol. Ghost was a strong swimmer, and he liked the absolute solitude of it. All the noise of the world was blocked out. He could almost convince himself things were normal. Now, drying himself off, the cool air raising gooseflesh on his newly refurbished skin, it was very obvious things were not normal anymore.

"I'm a Time Lord." The Doctor continued, as if this was an adequate explanation. "And I'm the only one left." An awkward silence descended. "I know what it's like to lose people in a war, Simon."

They stared at each other for a few seconds, the Doctor's expression haunted with sadness, and then he looked away, almost embarrassed. When he turned back, the childish smile was back on his face as if nothing had happened. The moment had passed. "Anyway! River picked these out." He said, brightly, holding out a bundle of clothes. "Hope they fit! Your old ones were a bit... burnt."

Ghost turned them over his hands. "Thanks." He said. There were a thousand questions he wanted to ask, but he didn't know where to start. He felt like he was thinking and moving through a very thick fog.

"What do I do now?" Ghost asked.

"Put them on." said the Doctor, helpfully.

"No." Ghost shook his head. "I mean, what I do now that I'm..." he tailed off. He still wasn't sure how to describe his current state of affairs.

"I don't know." The Doctor shrugged.

"But you're the one who brought me here! You filled me up with that silvery stuff!" Ghost's confusion was starting to become frustration, he didn't have the mental gymnastic skills to understand his predicament and it was starting to hurt his head.

"The universe is a mysterious place, Simon. We all have a path to follow, even if we can't see where we're going."

"Very bloody Zen." snapped Ghost. "Well I know where I want to go: I want to go back. Your girlfriend said you can travel in time, so take me back. Take me back and l can save Roach."

"She's not my girlfriend, and I can't take you back. Look: Simon Riley... Roach... they died in that place..."

"I'm not dead!" Ghost yelled.

"I know!" The Doctor shouted back.

"So put me back! I could kill Shepherd, Makarov. I could stop the war!"

"You can't!" said the Doctor, firmly. "You think you can just change time at will? You don't mess around with your own timeline."

"Why not?" demanded Ghost.

"You don't have the _slightest idea_ of what you want to mess with! I've seen what happens when people think they can use time to win a war. I've watched time be twisted and pulled and bent until it snaps. I'm the last Time Lord. I'm the only one left because my people started asking themselves what you're asking. That's where it got them: trapped in the never-was for all eternity!"

"What happens if I try to stop the war?" asked Ghost.

"In very simple terms?" said the Doctor. "The Universe goes 'spang'."

"Spang?"

"Yes. Technical term for wobbling for a bit and then snapping back into place in such a way that part of the galaxy implodes on itself. You make sure the war doesn't happen, by making sure that none of it ever happened, _anywhere_. It's not like turning the... the clocks back in the summer! Time and space are bound in a living, fluid Universe. Start to make a tiny tear and it'll end up in a rip that pulls you inside out. You want to make a paradox, a huge, world changing paradox that will blow your world apart and I am not going to let that happen!"

"I can't just do nothing! I can't just sit here the rest of my days!" Ghost felt himself getting angry. He felt a deep sense of injustice at the situation manifesting in an impotent rage. He pushed past the Doctor and stormed out.

"Will you put some clothes on! What it is with soldiers and being naked!" River rolled her eyes and threw her hands up in a clear gesture of exasperation. Ghost realised he was still clutching the bundle of clothes the Doctor had given him in his hand. Embarrassed, he started to rummage through them for some underpants.

He had found his way back to the control room. The corridors seemed different from when he'd left before and he wondered if the ship was in some way trying to guide him to where it thought it should be. River didn't exactly seem pleased to see him. She had been sitting at a table filled with parchment and old leatherbound books, peering at the contents with a magnifying glass.

"I'm sorry... I got a bit distracted. Thanks for getting me these." He said, indicating the clothes.

"You're welcome." She said. "You know, my father was a soldier."

"Oh, which regiment?"

"He was centurion, and it was more of a sort of... militia. He didn't like to talk about it." She looked up brightly "Sorry, this must all seem very odd to you. You forget, you see, when you've been here long enough that it's not normal for most people."

"Too true by half." He replied. "I just wish there was something I could do. It's not fair!"

"No. It's not. You can't mess about with your own timeline." She sighed.

"That's what _he_ said." Simon rolled his eyes in the direction of the door.

"He's right. I tried it once."

"Oh? Why?"

She turned to face him. "You're a soldier, Simon. You've killed people."

"Yeah." He said, frowning. "I don't brag about it or nothing. I was just doing my job."

"So was I." She looked away for a second and sighed. "I was trained for a single purpose: to assassinate the Doctor."

"What?" said Ghost, bewildered. "But you didn't... Or are you going to?"

"I didn't want to. The people who held me captive didn't bank on how I really felt about it. So I didn't pull the trigger, and then..."

"The Universe went 'spang'?" said Ghost, sarcastically.

"No. You know that noise when metal is under terrible strain, a sort of..." She took a deep breath and made the most awful noise Ghost had ever heard.

He clapped his hands over his ears to shut out her out. "Bloody hell!" he said.

"All of time started to happen at once, it became very unstable. Fortunately, when I killed him, there was resolution and it healed over. Everything went back to normal."

"How did you kill him, if he didn't die?"

"Trade secret!" said the Doctor, bursting through the door, with a flamboyant spin. "And I thought you of all people wouldn't need to ask that question."

Ghost thought about it and felt very stupid. "Fair point." He said. "So what do I do now?"

"You've got your own destiny, Simon. We just need to find out what it is."

"I've been a soldier all my life." Said Ghost, exasperated. "I don't know how to do anything else! I didn't want to do anything else! Am I supposed to just go back to Hereford, rock up to the front door of the base and say "Rumours of my death have been greatly bloody understated"? I'm sure it'll get a really big laugh!"

The Doctor paused, and then his eyes lit up. "Yes!"

"What?" said Ghost.

"Can't believe I didn't think of it!" The Doctor skipped backwards and then turned, sprinting to the control panel.

"What didn't you think of?" Ghost started after him.

"You're a soldier!" He called back. "I know people who need soldiers!"

"And these people would be?" River asked.

"Oh! The very best! Come on baby, show us what you can do!" shouted the Doctor as he grabbed a level on the control panel.

"What do you mean-" Ghost started to ask, but then the floor was ripped from under his feet.


	5. Chapter 5

**The Loop: Chapter 5**

Ghost pushed open the door and staggered out.

"Bloody hell!" he said. He'd hit the floor heavily as the ship lurched, landing painful on his side and then sliding with the new inclined floor until he stuck against the railings. The impact had wrenched his shoulder and it ached. "I wish you'd tell me before you did things like that."

The light was blinding after the dull interior of the TARDIS. He shaded his eyes with his hands as he walked forward, and found himself looking down the barrel of a gun.

"Ah! Captain Bambera!" He heard the Doctor behind him. "Such a pleasure to see you again! Don't worry about him, he's with us."

Ghost looked along the barrel to where a man no older than his new self stared down the sights. He was dressed in dark camouflage fatigues with a blue beret. Ghost squinted at the badge. He didn't recognise it: a gridded globe with two wings. Ghost looked the soldier up and down: he was young, but he wasn't nervous, even faced with the appearance of three strangers. Ghost was impressed.

The Doctor strode passed him, stopping to give a foppish salute to a woman in a captains uniform with the same blue beret. She was tall, with dark skin and hair neatly pulled back into a tight bun.

"Stand down!" she barked. The gun was removed and the soldier stood aside to let him pass, but still stared at him, wary. Ghost skirted round to stand beside the Doctor.

"I've brought you a present!" said the Doctor "Didn't have time to wrap it properly, I'm afraid!" He grabbed Ghost by the arms and pushed him towards the woman.

The Captain looked at him, completely bewildered. "I beg your pardon, Doctor?"

"Ta da!" He gestured at Ghost, as if he'd just pulled him out of a top hat. The Captain squinted at him, her eyes scanned his face.

"Ma'am." He nodded, feeling embarrassed.

"I don't see..." she started.

"Yes, well, it's all a bit complicated. Terribly long story. Got caught up in a bit of bother on our way to see the Summer solstice and ended up saving one of your brave boys."

"One of mine?" Bambera looked perplexed. "I've never seen him before in my life! You must be mistaken."

"Not yours, personally, but more in a generically army sort of way." He slung an arm around Ghost's shoulder and leant on him. "Anyway! Probably best if we can have a word with the Brigadier. It's very twisty-turny timey-wimey. Probably best explained over tea."

"Tea?" said Bambera, looking from the Doctor to Ghost with increasing confusion.

"Ooh! Tea!" said River, walking past them all. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "I love England in the summer." She kicked off her sandals and started to swing them around on her finger. "All that fresh air! Can't wait until you get the turbines in, they really make it look more modern. Two sugars for me please!" She called back.

Bambera stared after her, open mouthed. She blinked, twice and seemed to come to her senses.

"Tea." This seemed to be something she could make sense of. Ghost recognised something of his own plight and felt for her. "Follow me please!" she turned on her heel and began to march towards the buildings in the distance.

* * *

"So, let me get this straight, The Doctor stumbles onto a deniable operation, in the future, which he can't disclose the details of and finds you." Brigadier Crichton gestured at Ghost with a butter knife.

Ghost nodded. "Yes, sir." He took a scone from the plate offered to him.

"And according to him, and you, you spent four years with the Paras before moving joining our boys in balaclavas, where you spent another six years, and then you "died" in 2016." He gestured with bent fingers as he said the last word.

"Yes, sir."

"Well, it's all highly irregular. I mean, I trust you implicitly Doctor; our survival has often depended on your judgement and knowledge. If he comes with your recommendation, I don't see the harm in seeing whether you really are who you say you are. If what you say about yourself is true, you should do well. We could trial you out tomorrow!"

"Yes, sir. If you don't mind me asking, what does your command actually do? I mean, I've heard whispers, but..."

"That's because we take the secret part very seriously indeed! Naturally, there's some crossover between terrestrial Special Forces and our little lot, it's always useful to get new blood and have people out there we can rely on if need be, say in the event of a major attack." The Brigadier tapped the side of his nose, in a knowing fashion. "We're a very select group, handpicked to deal with a very specific problem, namely defending Britain against extraterrestrial threat."

Ghost choked on his scone.


	6. Chapter 6

**The Loop: Chapter 6**

"I feel like there's a whole world out there I never knew about." said Ghost.

After River had slapped him on the back, and he'd stopped coughing, he'd want to say that they must be joking, but then he remembered he'd arrived in a time-travelling spaceship, so the existence of a special unit to combat extra-terrestrial threat should hardly come as a surprise. It's not like he could claim such a thing wasn't possible anymore.

"That's very much how I felt, when I joined." said Bambera, who was lounging on the armrest of one of the sofas. "Back when he was Captain Crichton, he came to see me. I was thinking about giving it all up. I wanted to be a part of what you do (did- sorry), but they said there were Rules and Reasons about women and there was nothing I could do about it. Fortunately for everyone, Crichton got wind of the problem and I was offered a place here. That's the advantage of a unit that doesn't officially exist; it doesn't have to follow official rules." She smiled.

"Two days ago, I was in the future." said Ghost. Bambera had given him a copy of The Sun, dated July 16, 1995. He was glad he didn't have to think much about getting the months right. He tried to think about what he would have been doing, what he _was_ doing out there in the world.

"Well, you're on your own there, I'm afraid. Other dimensions, yes, but I've not experienced Timeslip myself. They tell me it wears off after a few days, like altitude sickness. Humans are very adaptable."

"I was just doing a job, and now everyone's dead... Except they're not. They're probably still in primary school. I'm still in primary school."

Her expression softened. "We've all lost friends here. Good men and women. We fight the good fight. We make terrible sacrifices. We do terrible things. We go on. It can't be the first time it's happened?"

Ghost looked out onto the lawn, watching River turn a cartwheel and flop onto the grass. "No. Just the first time I died with them, went back in time and joined a unit I didn't know existed that fights aliens." He said, sighing. "I appreciate getting the chance to _do_ something. I need something to put my back against."

She smiled. "You should get some rest. You need to be on the range tomorrow, nine o'clock sharp."

He nodded. "Yes ma'am." He looked back out of the window and finally realised what had been bothering him for the last ten minutes. "Why is there a police box on the lawn?"

* * *

The next day was a complicated series of tests and exercises designed to assess whether he really was who he claimed to be and if he was suitable material to defend Britain against unknown space monsters. First thing in the morning he'd arrived early at the range, which looked like a normal shooting range, where a tiny, elderly lady in a bright pink dress with matching hat, had told him just to do his best, but she would be taking notes.

She smiled benignly at him and then proceeded to ask a rapid fire series of questions, fixing him with a beady stare that seemed to be focused somewhere just in the middle of his brain. There was a selection of guns laid out on the table beside her that ranged from the common or garden MP5 to what Ghost eventually recognised as the fabled Welcheroot. She watched him dissemble and assemble the weapons she passed him, looking increasingly displeased.

Eventually, after his head was ringing from the barrage of questions, she seemed satisfied and hobbled away, only to be replaced by a thin, black man with long dreadlocks who wanted to see Ghost pick out his favourite weapons and fire them at a variety of bewilderingly shaped targets, some of which appeared to have tentacles.

After that they taken him into a paddock beside the range and shown him a large oblong box, perfectly smooth and so black the light seemed to plunge into it. They'd given him a camera, and a notebook and said to write brief report. So Ghost had looked at it, prodded it, photographed it, poked it with a stick, sniffed it, measured it, tried to lift it up and it still did nothing. He was tempted to give it a sharp kick, but suspected that would lose him points. He wrote it all down, and gave it to the lady in pink at the gate who'd snorted disapprovingly before handing him back to the man with dreadlocks, apparently called Graham, and who lead him to a door.

"You don't get no gun for this one mate, you're on your own." He laughed. "We'll be watching from upstairs. Try not to get yourself killed." He grinned and held the door open, gesturing at Ghost to go through.

Ghost peered into the darkness. Beyond the door there was nothing. "What's in there?" he asked.

"That's the surprise!" said Graham, laughing manically.

"What've I got to lose?" Said Ghost, and stepped through the door.

The lights came on. He was in a large, concrete arena lit by banks of floodlights. Compared to the warm summer outside, it was cold enough to make him shiver. His breath condensed in the air in front of him. There were stacks of crates haphazardly piled around him, and bits of broken wood and metal all over the floor. It looked like warehouse that had been abandoned.

He ducked behind one of the piles, and peered gingerly out. The rest of the warehouse floor appeared to be empty. Moving swiftly, he sprinted across to the stack of wooden crates closest to the wall. At least then he could be sure nothing was sneaking up behind him. For a brief moment of paranoia, he wondered if it was something to do with the crates, if they were some weird wooden alien enemy, but closer inspection showed them just to be crates, all of which were nailed shut, half covered in a dusty old piece of tarpaulin.

Out on the floor, it was silent. Crouching down, he picked up a thick metal rod. He wasn't going to be caught without a weapon if they tried to sneak up on him. He thought of the targets with the tentacles and shuddered. He looked around, assessing his surroundings. The walls were concrete and there appeared to be no windows. He couldn't see higher than the ring of floodlights, but he suspected there was an observation deck somewhere above him.

_Okay. They want to see me do something._ He had been weary from the day's exercises, but now he was wide awake. This was what he had been missing: the challenge, the blood pumping through his veins, the excitement of the unknown danger. He felt focussed for the first time since his resurrection. _Bring on the tentacle monsters! _He grinned to himself, and then he heard it.

It was not a human sound. It was a faint whine, just on the edge of hearing, but it sounded mechanical. He peered out from his hiding place.

On the far side of the floor was the most bizarre sight: a sort of giant pepper mill, gliding across the concrete. Ghost immediately had a bad feeling; there was something _sinister_ about it. Perhaps it was the way that it moved almost silently, or the odd venting that covered what Ghost immediately thought of as the head, or the strange plunger that was protruding from the front of its carapace. He shivered. The head spun round, obviously searching for something. _Searching for me_, he thought, suppressing the giddy rush of fear, _but how?_

He thought of an idea. Bending down again, he picked up a large piece of stone that was lying against the crate. He hefted it in his fist. The head spun again, and the long metal arm attached to it moved up and down. _Is that how it sees?_ He wondered. He waited until it had spun away and then he lobbed the stone high, over its head.

It hit the ground about fifteen feet away, clattering and skipping across the floor. The head spun round.

"INTRUDERS." Ghost jumped at the rasping, metallic voice. He realised it was coming from the thing. "INTRUDERS WILL BE EXTERMINATED." It spat the syllables out with a harsh, stuttering effect.

_Exterminated. That's not good!_ Thought Ghost. He jumped as a laser fired from the robot, blasting out of its arm and exploding the stone into smithereens. _Oh bloody hell! That's really not good!_ He'd used lasers as designators, but this was a genuine laser weapon. Ghost suddenly felt excited and frightened at the same time. This was getting interesting. The robot looked at the concrete where the stone had bounced and then its head spun, stopping and pointing exactly towards Ghost's hiding place. It began to glide towards him.

"EXTERMINATE. EXTERMINATE."

Ghost thought quickly. It was reacting to sight and sound. _Blind it_. He thought. _How?_ _Think!_ He ran a few scenarios through his mind: he could get close to it and jump on, but then he remembered about the bear defence that had been installed in one of the army vans on an exercise in a Canadian forest where a flicked switch could race several thousands of volts through the shell of the vehicle. He didn't know what a laser-firing pepper pot might have hidden up its sleeve.

His hand brushed the tarpaulin and then suddenly he had a plan. In one swift movement, he threw the metal bar at the robot and pulled the tarpaulin free. As it turned to follow the trajectory of the bar he leapt over the crate and started running, but it hadn't been fooled and the eyestalk quickly turned back, fixing him with a beady blue stare.

"EXTERMINATE."

He leapt, rolling with the landing. The laser hit the ground a fraction of a second behind him as he scrambled to his feet and threw the tarp blindly at it.

"EXTERMINATE"

He dived behind the next stack of crates and peered out to see if he'd been successful. The tarp had landed partly on it, and it was hanging precariously over the stalk. The robot swung it back and forth, attempting to dislodge it. Picking up a rusty spanner, Ghost sprinted back grabbing the tarpaulin and twisting putting all his weight into pulling it towards him whilst kicking out with his right foot at the laser. He heard a satisfying crunch as the laser arm bent but then eyestalk started to swing round against the force he was putting on it and he started to lose his balance.

"EXTERMINATE" The robot screamed and suddenly sprayed a cloud of white gas from where the laser arm had connected. Ghost leapt back, but the body of the robot swung towards him and the jet hit him on the leg, instantly rendering it numb. He stumbled back and then fell, hard on his hip, barely managing to break his fall. He saw the robot spin round towards him, blindly firing jets of gas, the tarpaulin slipping dangerously from the end of the eyestalk.

He started to crawl, desperately away, trailing his numb leg behind him uselessly, but the cold numbness was spreading, up through his leg and into his stomach. _I'm going to die again._ He thought as it became more difficult to breath. He wanted to laugh, but it came out as a wheezy splutter. He couldn't move his chest. He tried to remember the chemical weapons training he'd had, but it was useless. He was totally immobilised, the pressure in his chest blocking out anything else. The last thing he remembered before it went back was the robot, morphing into the face of Shepherd and then there was nothing.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

This time, Ghost awoke to the sound of birds singing and the fresh smell of new mown grass. He opened his eyes to the bright, hazy light of a summer morning and the feeling of cool, clean linen sheets on his skin. For a moment, he was disorientated, and then a chunk of memory hit him hard. He saw it all at once, images, sounds and smells exploding into his mind. He jerked upright.

"Oh fantastic!" The Doctor was sitting on a chair at the end of his bed, his legs crossed and resting on the blankets of Ghost's bed. Ghost nearly didn't recognise him. He was wearing a beige linen suit with a white shirt and the same bowtie as before, but half his face was covered with large sunglasses that would have made Jackie Onassis sick with envy. Perched on his head was a floppy canvas hat. "You're awake!" He leapt up and pulled the sunglasses from his face, his eyes bright and childlike with wonder. "Well done! You really impressed them!" He applauded. Ghost smiled at him, bewildered. "I know basic Dalek models aren't really up to much, but that was pretty bright of you going for its eyestalk! Shame about the immobiliser gas, but as first times go..." he scuttled round to crouch at the side of Ghost's bed and whispered conspiratorially "I think that was pretty good!" He winked.

Ghost groaned and flopped back onto the pillows. "Thanks." He said, weakly. For a brief moment, just before the memories slapped him in the face, he'd been at peace. Now he was back in 1995, a crazy thing that wore the shape of a man dancing around at the end of his bed, proclaiming that it was a beautiful day. He rubbed his eyes and pressed his fingertips into the edge of the orbits, using the pain to focus his bleary thoughts.

"Finally awake, I hear?" Ghost opened his eyes to see Captain Bambera striding through the door. She wearing what Ghost presumed was the dress uniform of UNIT: a beige suit with a black tie. A pin embellished with a winged globe was stuck through it. She looked pleased. "You did very well in there, for a first timer."

"Told you!" said the Doctor, reaching across Ghost to grab a bunch of grapes that had been left on the bedside cabinet. He plucked one from the stalk and threw it up in the air, catching it in his open mouth. He grinned maniacally at them.

"Lady Wainscott was very impressed with your knowledge of the armoury and Graham had a very favourable report on the simulations."

He realised she was talking about the pink lady. "She didn't look pleased." He said.

"That's why I never play poker with her." replied Bambera. "You did very well in the final simulation. Just the right level of caution balanced against the decision to take calculated risks. Lots of people make the mistake of trusting aliens, but you saw through that! Crichton would be happy to offer you a place here."

"Ta da!" the Doctor waved his hands, clearly enthused with this suggestion.

"What the hell was that thing?" said Ghost.

"A Dalek." Said the Captain and the Doctor at once. She gave him a withering look.

"Of course! You carry on!" He waved his hand at her and sat back down on the chair, pulling off grapes and eating them with every sign of enjoyment

"A Dalek." repeated the Captain. "A basic model. We call them Drone version 1. That's a remote controlled version we rigged from a captured specimen a few years ago. It's essentially a heavily armoured alien soldier with the alien concealed inside."

"Oh." said Ghost.

"There are quite a few versions, steadily getting more deadly as they've evolved, but you'll get a whole session on them from Arnold and Angelique later on, presuming of course that you've no objection to joining us?"

"None." said Ghost.

"Good." She smiled. "Well done for figuring out the eyestalk, and using the tarp. Very few people ever get that far. They might be slow, but even the basic models can be dangerous. You know some people find them funny?"

"Gave me the creeps." replied Ghost. Even thinking about it, gliding across the floor made him shudder.

"Yes, but not enough to stop you fighting it. That's important too. If you're too curious to sense danger, you're no use to us, but if you're too frightened by the unknown, you can't be relied on when aliens that no one has seen before with six heads and fifty sets of teeth come hunting for our flesh either."

Ghost thought back to the shooting range. "Some of those targets had..."

"Tentacle monsters? Oh, that's just Graham's little joke. At least, I hope it is. You never know in our line of work what's heading our way. I think that's part of the thrill." She smiled and then it changed to a frown. "As promised, The Brigadier had these knocked up for you. Your new identity."

She passed him a thick brown envelope. It had been sealed with the UNIT logo, and the words "Top Secret: UNIT command only" which had been slashed through.

"New passport, birth certificate, small starting grant and all the questionnaires you'll ever need for a lifetime. It's all pretty basic stuff really, just for our records."

Ghost slid the passport out into his hand: feeling the burgundy leatherette under his fingers. He traced the golden British crest and then flipped to the back page, reading the details of his new persona and his heart felt like it stopped dead in his chest.

He stared at it, slack-jawed and gawping. He read it again to make sure, and then again because it couldn't possibly be true.

Next to the stark photograph of his face was a name: _John Arthur Price_.

* * *

That's the end of my first ever piece of Dr Who fan fiction.

I'd be entirely grateful if you want to leave any feedback.

Thanks for reading.


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